Chapter 21 Whiz
WHIZ
The bedroom door slams shut behind us. I don't remember kicking it closed, but I must have. My brain's not tracking details anymore, just the essentials: Zoey's thighs locked around my waist, her skin hot against mine, the way her breath hits my neck, causing goosebumps.
I make it three steps before my back hits the wall, and then her mouth is on mine, hungry and demanding, like she didn’t get enough in the shower.
"Bed," she gasps against my lips.
"Yeah." My voice comes out gravelly. "Getting there."
Except I'm not moving. I can’t because she’s grinding against me, and even though the haze of need is clouding every rational thought, I know if I don't get inside her in the next sixty seconds, I'm going to lose my goddamn mind.
Her nails dig into my shoulders. "Whiz—"
"I know." I push off the wall and cross the remaining distance to the bed.
My knees hit the mattress, and I follow her down, covering her body with mine much like I did when the bullets were flying earlier. Only this time, I”m not worried she’s going to die.
She's spread out beneath me, all flushed skin and wild eyes, her chest heaving. She's already reaching for me, pulling me down with an urgency that matches the fire burning through my veins.
"This is a bad idea," she breathes.
"Terrible," I agree, settling between her thighs.
"We shouldn't—"
"Definitely not."
Her legs wrap around my hips, and whatever she was about to say dissolves into a moan as I grind against her. I can feel how ready she is, hot and slick against my cock, and it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to just drive into her right this second.
"This doesn't mean anything," she says, but her voice wavers, and her fingers are digging into my shoulders like she's afraid I'll pull away.
"Nothing," I confirm, even as I'm lining myself up, even as every cell in my body is screaming that this means everything.
I push in slowly. Or at least I try to. She's so tight, so perfect, and the sensation steals every coherent thought from my head. I make it maybe two inches before I have to stop, dropping my forehead to hers.
"Don't stop," she gasps. "Don't you dare stop."
"Need a second. Or this is going to be over embarrassingly fast."
She rolls her hips, taking me deeper, and I curse against her skin.
"Zoey—"
"Shut up, and move."
So I do.
I pull back and thrust in again, harder this time, and the sound she makes obliterates the last shred of my self-control. I set a rhythm that's too fast, too rough, but she's meeting me thrust for thrust, her hips rising to take me deeper.
"Fuck," I groan, because it's the only word my brain can form.
She tugs my hair, causing my scalp to sting. "Harder."
I comply without thinking, snapping my hips forward with enough force to make the headboard hit the wall. She cries out, back arching, and I do it again. And again. The rhythm is punishing, desperate, absolutely feral, and I can feel her tightening around me with each thrust.
This isn't making love. This isn't even fucking. This is something raw, something needy. This is two people who know better but still don’t give a damn.
I shift the angle, and her whole body goes rigid beneath me.
"There," she pants. "Right there, don't—"
I don't let her finish. I hammer into that spot, watching her face as she comes apart. Her eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open, and her keening is emblazoned in my brain.
"Look at me," I demand.
Her eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, and the connection hits different. It’s too intimate, too much.
I should look away, but I don’t because I’m a glutton for punishment.
Instead, I slow down, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with agonizing deliberation. I watch every micro-expression that crosses her face… the flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips part, the flush spreading down her neck.
"I hate this," she gasps, but her body's telling a different story, clenching around me like she never wants to let it go.
"Yeah." I drive in deeper, harder. "Me, too."
We're both liars.
I pick up the pace again, paying attention to every response, every hitch in her breathing. When I lean down to bite the junction of her neck and shoulder, she trembles.
Her legs tighten around my waist, and the friction is incredible.
"Touch yourself," I rasp.
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"You heard me." I slow my rhythm. "Touch yourself. I want to feel you come around my cock."
For a second, I think she's going to argue. Then her hand slides between us, and the brush of her fingers against herself makes her clench around me so tight I see stars.
"Jesus Christ," I choke out.
She's working herself in tight circles, and I can feel every movement. Her free hand clutches at my shoulder, nails digging into my flesh.
"Whiz," she whimpers, and hearing my name on her lips like that nearly destroys me.
"I've got you," I murmur, and I don't know where the words come from. This isn't supposed to be tender.
But the way she's looking at me right now, eyes wide and vulnerable, makes my chest tight.
I capture her mouth in a kiss that's slower, deeper. She opens for me immediately, and the intimacy of it is almost worse than the sex.
When I pull back, we're both breathing hard. Her hand is still working between her legs, and I can feel her getting close. Her inner muscles are starting to flutter, and her breathing is getting more erratic.
"That's it," I encourage, picking up the pace. "Let go. I want to feel it."
"I can't," she gasps. "It's too much."
"You can." I shift my weight, changing the angle, and she cries out. "Come for me, Zoey."
I reach down, covering her hand with mine, guiding her movements. The added pressure is all it takes for her to shatter.
Her back bows off the bed, and the way she clenches around me is almost painful. She's crying out, my name mixed with curses, and the sound of it drags me right to the edge.
But I hold back. Barely. I want to feel every aftershock.
She's trembling beneath me, gasping for air, and her eyes are unfocused when they meet mine. "Why did you stop?"
"Didn't stop." I pull out almost completely, then slide back in with one smooth stroke that makes her gasp. "Just getting started."
"I can't… not again."
"Yes, you can." I roll us over in one fluid motion, pulling her on top of me. The change in position wrenches a groan from both of us.
She's straddling my hips, hands braced on my chest, hair falling around her face. She looks like a goddess, and I'm completely at her mercy.
"Ride me," I command, gripping her hips.
For a moment, she just stares down at me, chest heaving. Then she starts to move.
It's tentative at first, like she's testing things out, but then she finds her rhythm, and holy fuck. The sight of her above me, head thrown back, taking her pleasure… It's gonna kill me.
My hands roam over her body, up her sides, across her stomach, cupping her breasts. When I thumb her nipples, she gasps and clenches around me.
Then she's moving faster, grinding down on me with increasing desperation, and I can't just lie here. I sit up, wrapping one arm around her waist, and thrust up to meet her.
The new position has her crying out, and I can feel the pressure building at the base of my spine.
"I'm close," she gasps against my neck.
"Me too." My voice is barely recognizable. "Come with me."
I slide one hand between us, finding where we're joined, and press my thumb against her clit.
She detonates.
This orgasm rolls through her in waves, and this time, I let myself go with her.
White-hot pleasure explodes through every nerve as I empty myself inside her. It goes on and on, wave after wave, until I'm completely wrung out.
We collapse together, a tangle of limbs and racing hearts. I'm still inside her, and neither of us makes any move to separate. She's draped across my chest, face buried in my neck, and I can feel her breath hot against my skin.
I drag my fingertips up and down her spine. Her body is heavy against mine, and I can feel the exact moment she starts to drift.
"We can't do this again," she mumbles against my neck, but there's no conviction in her words.
"No," I agree, lying again.
She shifts slightly, and I slip out of her. Before I can overthink it, she's curling into my side, one leg thrown over mine, her head on my chest. I pull the sheet up over both of us and tighten my arm around her.
Her breathing evens out, and her body goes lax against mine, one hand curled against my chest, right over my heart.
This thing between us, it's not love. It's not even close.
But it's not nothing either.